


Can't Even Focus On A Coffee Cup

by helens78



Series: Six Hours [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Casual Sex, Friendship, M/M, POV Outsider, Podfic Available, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-11
Updated: 2011-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-15 13:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/139125">Six Hours That Change Nothing</a>, life goes on in Chicago.  Ray's new partner keeps an eye on him as he tries to find a new sun to orbit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Even Focus On A Coffee Cup

**Author's Note:**

> Podfic! This story has been generously podficced by [tassos](http://ao3.org/users/tassos); [you can find the podfic here](http://amplificathon.dreamwidth.org/376174.html). Thank you!

The 27th precinct has a reputation for weird. That doesn't really bother me in and of itself, you know? Weird can be good, weird can be fun--weird can lead to a lot of really fucking satisfying cases. And I've got a good head for weird. I can match up clues a lot of people can't; I can think outside the box.

What kind of bothers me about this job is I know why I got put here. Police work is still men's work most of the time, and a girl who gets promoted to detective as fast as I did can ruffle some feathers. And a girl who gets promoted to detective when she keeps her hair short and her fingernails neat and wears her Docs to work and hasn't ever brought a man in for an office party or just a ride when her car's in the shop or something--I know, I'm not doing a very good job blending in.

So the 27th. Okay. I can blend in with all the other freaks. Fine.

When I first meet my new partner, I shake his hand and look him over. This is Kowalski, the guy who spent eighteen months as Vecchio--who is just over on the other side of the room--and who used to work with the Mountie. I never actually met the Mountie, and from the way Kowalski looks, maybe I'm glad.

Because the thing is, Kowalski looks like somebody just grabbed the sun out of his sky. No light, and whatever he used to orbit around is just--gone.

He does good work, though, I gotta give him that. He's a good detective, and he's a good partner. And if he's caught wind of the rumors about me, he doesn't let on--in fact, he kind of goes out of his way to make it seem like he hasn't caught on, because three weeks after we start working together, when we're out to dinner at that diner he likes, he says, "Hey, Alex, you doing anything tonight?"

"No," I tell him, one eyebrow going up. "What's up?"

"I got a yin to--"

"A yin?"

"You know, a yin, a yang, whatever--"

"A yen," I tell him. "You've got a yen to--"

"--go dancing, right, and I thought--"

I pinch the bridge of my nose; okay, then, he doesn't listen to the rumor mill. Point for him, but-- _awkward_. "Ray, here's the thing." He stops talking and nods at me. "I like to dance. And I'd be happy to dance with you. But the only people I'd take home from a dance club have tits, okay?"

He starts to say something and just leaves his mouth open for a second; finally, he shakes his head and cracks up laughing and leans back in the booth. "Fair enough," he says. "Me, I'm not that picky, if you get what I'm saying."

I flash a grin his way. "Well, if you aren't that worried about where you're seen, I know a place where the music is consistently good."

"You're on."

And this is how I end up going out dancing with Ray Kowalski once a week. We're good together, actually--we don't step on each other's toes, he's a great dancer, and we keep each other more or less out of trouble--assuming it's trouble we don't want, that is. I mean, I end up taking a Joan Jett-lookalike to his car one night and we kind of fuck up the upholstery, which lands me in the doghouse with Ray for a couple days until I detail the goddamn seats myself, but then again, he leaves me stranded when some tall, built guy with black hair and blue eyes wants Ray to take him home, so on the whole of it, all in all, we're square.

On a night when we both strike out, we end up back in the diner. It's almost Christmas, so there's a lot of red and green in the city, a lot of lights strung up, but when a dude in a Santa costume walks by and Ray almost bolts out of his seat seeing that much red, I kick him under the table.

"You had a thing for the Mountie, huh?"

He looks back at me--this is the topic of which we have not spoken, even though Benton Fraser is all over Ray's notes and files, both Rays' notes and files, Vecchio and Kowalski alike, and sometimes I look at those files and want to say "Really? He _seriously_ did this shit?" But like I said--Fraser is the third rail, the thing that must not be named, and I must've had one too many drinks tonight, because normally I'd just leave it.

But c'mon, a _drunk Santa_. Like I'm gonna leave it after that.

"We had a thing," Ray says, finally. He clutches at his coffee cup, hands tight around it, looking down in it like that sludge is going to give him the secrets to the known universe. "We just didn't get around to having it until I was six hours away from leaving Canada."

"Oh." I wince on his behalf, because it looks like he's hurting from his hair to his toes, and a lot of pieces are starting to fill in. How lost he looked when I first got here. The guys he takes back to the car or goes home with or takes home with him--I've seen pictures of the Mountie, I can see how Ray's following a type. "Well, shit, Ray. That sucks."

He kind of grins up at me, and he nods. "Yeah. It does." He shrugs. "But it's not like I was gonna find a job in Inuvik, and Chicago was killing him, so."

"You could do the long-distance thing."

"Works better when you both got phones. And I mean--he wrote, but I suck at writing, so it just--we didn't..." He slams both hands down on the table like he's closing the talk, and he sits up straight. "Anyway. You about done here?"

"Yeah, close enough."

"Cool. I'll take you home."

Out in front of my apartment, I reach over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. I'm sorry for pushing earlier."

He nods, looking straight out the windshield. "It's cool," he says quietly. "Just--it's not like I told anyone else, so don't--"

"Hey, no, Jesus--" I squeeze his shoulder and shake my head. "Come on. You know me. You know I'm not gonna go talking about you behind your back."

And he does know that, he should know that, so he nods again. "Yeah. I--yeah."

"So I'll see you Monday, right?"

"Monday. Right."

* * *

On Monday morning, I walk into the squadroom and there's a guy standing next to Ray's desk, like he's waiting for Ray to show up. He's not in uniform, but I've seen pictures--and even if I hadn't, the Stetson in his hands would have given him away.

I head over to the Mountie and hold out my hand. "Hey. Alex DeSoto. Detective. Are you waiting for Ray?"

"Oh--I--yes," he says, and he shifts his Stetson to his left arm so he can shake my hand. "I'm Benton Fraser. Constable. RCMP. Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP," he adds; I can just see it paining him not to have said it in the right order to begin with.

"I know," I tell him. "Does Ray know you're here?"

"Well--no, I'm afraid not," he says, and he reaches up and rubs the back of his thumb across his eyebrow. There's a little silver flash as he does it, and I get the slightest glimpse of ball-chain slipping down his sleeve before it's gone. I didn't see enough of it to be sure, but I'd bet money it matches Ray's. "But I'd hoped I could wait for him. We used to work together..."

"I'll get you a chair. You want a cup of coffee or something?"

"Yes, please."

"Sugar?"

"Black."

I find him a chair and a cup of coffee, and by then other people have started to file in. Vecchio's the first person to notice him, and he yells out "BENNY!" so loud half the room turns around, and okay, Vecchio's exuberant most days, but the bear hug he gives Fraser has to be seen to be believed. And while Fraser gets greetings from a lot of people, Vecchio sticks right by him the whole time. Points to Vecchio, as far as I'm concerned, because whatever Fraser's here for, he looks like he needs a friend.

And when his eyes lock on to someone across the room, when Fraser stops so much as breathing, Vecchio's there to put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, remind him he's in a crowded room with people everywhere. Another point to Vecchio; I have to stop giving him shit for trying to horn in on my cases.

But that's my partner over there at the door, my partner with a coffee in his hand that looks like it's about to drop to the floor, so I'm up and across the room before the squadroom goes into slow-motion and romantic music starts piping through the PA. I grab Ray's coffee and kick him quietly in the ankle, and he looks at me, still too stunned to glare.

"You want me to cover for you?" I ask softly. "Because I would, you know."

"I--what does he want? What's he here for?"

"Hell if I know." I glance down at Ray's wrist, where his ball-chain bracelet is visible just under the sleeve of his jacket. "Did you give him the bracelet he's wearing?"

His eyes go wide, and he looks from me to Fraser and back again. "He's--what bracelet?"

"Ball chain. Silver. Matches yours."

That's all I have time for, because he's off across the room, and he doesn't stop when he gets to Fraser--he wraps both arms around Fraser and hugs him, and Fraser hugs back, and I look around the room to see if anyone's gonna make a big deal out of it--but no, nobody staring, and when my gaze scoots past Vecchio I can see him doing the same thing, checking on the room like he's ready to wade into battle if anyone has something bad to say about Benny.

I'm liking Vecchio more and more by the second, I don't mind saying.

I'm not shocked when Ray and Fraser head out. I'm maybe a little more surprised that they don't walk out holding hands or something, but apparently they've got that much self-control, so good for them.

Vecchio walks over to my desk. "So you knew about that, huh?"

"Yeah." I glance around the squadroom again. "Anybody else?"

He shakes his head. "Not that I know of."

"Did you know Fraser was coming back?"

"No, and I should've--he writes all the time. Didn't mention the trip, though."

"Well, he obviously didn't tell Ray, either."

"Yeah." Vecchio sighs. "You need any help today? I think you're short a partner."

"I got it," I tell him, "but that's sweet of you."

"Hey, I'm good at sweet. I am famous for my sweetness." He grins at me.

"I bet you are," I say, "but you're also famous for _swiping my busts_ ," and I grin right back.

He holds up his hands and backs off a step. "Only trying to help a fellow cop. We're all on the same team, right?"

"Right," I tell him. I wink, he brushes his finger across his nose, and we're both grinning as we get back to work.

 _-end-_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Can't Even Focus on a Coffee Cup](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790864) by [Tassos_podfic (Tassos)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/pseuds/Tassos_podfic)




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